Page 28 of Luca
Then his mouth is there, hot, slow, following the trail upward. Each stroke of his tongue is a question and an answer all at once. My breath hitches, but I keep my expression soft, the way Sofia would… even as I strain against the act.
“Your truth is written here,” he says, brushing his fingers over the flutter of my pulse. “In how you breathe. In how you taste. In what you can’t hide.”
And then his mouth is on me again, harder this time, like he’s sealing something between us. I taste the whiskey, and the dangerous certainty that Luca has decided my truth is his to uncover.
“You’re breathing faster. Is that because you’re nervous or because you like where I’ve got you?”
“Maybe both.”
He laughs softly. “You’ll learn I don’t like ‘maybe.’”
The bottle tilts again. He doesn’t rush to taste it. Instead, he drags his thumb through the warm trail and lifts it to my mouth.
“Open your mouth and suck.”
It’s not a request. I wrap my lips around his thumb, tasting the burn of the whiskey mixed on his skin. His gaze doesn’t move from my face as I swirl my tongue against him.
“Still hiding from me?” he asks, when his hand slips between my thighs.
I can’t bite back the sound that slips from my throat.
“There’s the truth, right there,” he says.
His fingers hook in the edge of my panties, pulling them down my thighs without breaking eye contact.
“You’re going to tell me everything,” he says, pushing me back into the pillows. “Every secret. Every lie. Every truth you thought you’d keep from me. But first—”
He kisses his way down my stomach. “Spread your legs for me,” he orders.
My legs obey before my mind can catch up.
He settles between them, his shoulders forcing me wider, and the first stroke of his tongue makes my hips jolt. He doesn’t warm me up. He devours me—deep, relentless, his mouth working like he’s chasing a truth from my body instead of my lips. His fingers join the rhythm, curling until my vision goes black.
“Luca—” It’s half a plea, half a warning, but his grip on my thigh tightens, anchoring me down.
“You’re not done,” he says, rubbing his beard stubble against my inner thigh “Not until I say you’re done.”
The pressure builds too fast. My hands are in his hair, holding on, dragging him closer as if I can’t get enough.
Because I can’t.
The second I orgasm, it’s hard and hot, my pulse roaring in my ears, and he doesn’t stop. He takes every aftershock, every shiver, like payment.
When he finally pulls back, his mouth is wet, his smile dangerous. “You taste like a truth you’ll never be able to deny.”
And lying there, chest rising and falling, I know he’s right.
Chapter 11: Gabriella
It’s official, I'm going to lose my mind if I don’t get out of this house. After a life of travel and excitement, the thought of spending the day pretending I know how to arrange flowers sends me spiraling into depression.
Luca's been studying me like I'm a puzzle he's trying to solve. Not in a bad way. More like he's genuinely curious about who I am. But it's making me paranoid about every word, every gesture, every time I forget to be Sofia and let Gabriella slip through.
I’m anxious and jumpy today.
When Rosa mentions she needs to go to the market this morning, I practically leap at the chance.
"Could I come with you?" I ask, trying to sound casual. "I'd love to see where you buy all those amazing ingredients."
